The Clumsiest Swordsman in California
by IcyWaters
Summary: Don Alejandro may understand his son much better than Diego realizes. Takes place the day after episode 13 of the Disney series, "The Fall of Monastario."


Summary: Don Alejandro may understand his son much better than Diego realizes. Takes place the day after episode 13 of the Disney series, "The Fall of Monastario."

Author's Note: A huge thank you to Ida Mirei for inspiring me to write this story. I would never have published this without all of her wonderful feedback. If you have not read her work, check it out – after you read this, of course. ;-) This idea has been floating around in my head for years, and it feels great to finally have it written down. Also, thanks to Fanta (aka Sprite3) for her words of encouragement years ago.

* * *

**The Clumsiest Swordsman in California**

by

IcyWaters

Diego de la Vega sat on the edge of his bed, gently running his fingers over the soft, dark cloth in his hands. A knock on the bedroom door stirred him from his thoughts, and he quickly shoved the item into his robe pocket. Before he could say 'enter', the door opened and Bernardo slipped in.

The manservant shot the young don a curious look.

"Ah, you are surprised to see me up so early," Diego said with a smile. Bernardo nodded his head and Diego continued. "Last night was the most satisfying sleep I have had since returning to California. Hopefully, it is the first of many to come."

Diego motioned for his friend to sit next to him. He pulled the cloth from his pocket and dangled the black mask of Zorro before them. "With Monastario no longer in power, Zorro may be able to retire."

A momentary gleam shone in Bernardo's eyes, but it disappeared quickly, replaced by a creased brow and frown on his lips. He shook his head disapprovingly.

"You do not want to see Zorro retire?" Diego questioned with a devilish spark in his eyes. "I must admit, I will miss the bandit, too. There is something freeing about riding Tornado in the dark of night and toying with the soldiers," he laughed, draping the mask across his leg.

Bernardo grinned. The two sat in silence for few moments before the mute tapped Diego on the shoulder. He made a flurry of gestures with his hands, ending with his finger tracing a 'Z' in the air.

"I do not understand, Bernardo."

Deciding to take a different approach, he held his hand out with two fingers extended. He pointed at one of his fingers and then at Diego. Next, he pointed to the other finger and then towards the side of the room.

Diego's brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed as he followed his friend's gestures. "Oh, my father," he finally said, realizing Bernardo was pointing to the elder de la Vega's room.

Bernardo let out a satisfied breath and pointed to the mask. "Will I tell my father that I am Zorro?" Diego voiced the mute's question aloud. "I do not know, my friend."

Bernardo shrugged his shoulders, as if asking 'why not?'

"I think my father would be relieved to know his only son is not a spineless weakling, but at the same time, I do not think he would approve of his son having a price on his head. It would tarnish the de la Vega name."

This answer didn't seem to satisfy Bernardo and he gave the young don a hard stare.

"Yes, I suppose he deserves to know," Diego sighed. "I will have to play it by ear." Bernardo gave the don a skeptical look, but finally gave in and expressed his content with this approach.

Diego stood from the bed and walked over the fireplace. He pressed the lever on the mantle to open the secret passage and disappeared inside. He returned with a rapier in hand. He flawlessly executed an attack at an imaginary opponent.

The gleam was back in Bernardo's eyes and a large smile graced his lips.

"After surviving a duel with Capitán Monastario, perhaps Diego will develop a new respect for the art of fencing. After all, he was a rather adventurous child. That spark of mischief must still be in him somewhere," Diego remarked with sly delight. "Then perhaps I shall marry a pretty senorita, have fat children and watch our vineyards grow."

Bernardo's eyes widened.

"You do not think I should marry?"

He nodded his head 'no'.

"Why not?" Diego asked in amusement.

Bernardo's shoulders slumped and he began nodding his head 'yes'.

"So you do think I should marry?"

The mute started nodding yes again, then no, before shaking his head in frustration. Letting out an exasperated sigh, he threw up his hands in defeat. Diego let out a hardy laugh and slapped the other man on the back. "I am sorry, Bernardo. I did not mean to confuse you."

Bernardo pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, trying to give Diego an annoyed look, but failing miserably.

"I do understand what you mean. Going from a bandit yesterday to children tomorrow does seem rather abrupt," Diego smiled. "But then, I think we are getting ahead of ourselves. We do not know what our next commandante will be like. While I hope peaceful days will return to our pueblo, there is no certainty in these times. Zorro may be needed once again."

Diego tossed the rapier to Bernardo. "Put this away while I get dressed. Then we will head downstairs for breakfast."

Dressed in a dark blue suit with gold embroidery, Diego walked down the stairs of the hacienda with Bernardo not far behind. The sound of hoofs coming to a stop outside the gate caught his attention. An odd sense of déjà vu overcame him as he recalled yesterday morning.

The feeling amplified when he opened the gate and saw a soldier dismounting. The feeling passed quickly once he realized the lancer was alone. Diego's soft chuckle went unnoticed to the soldier. The lancer greeted the young de la Vega and handed him a message from the viceroy before returning to his horse and riding off.

Diego opened the letter. "The viceroy has requested that I come to the pueblo today to make an official report on yesterday's events. He will be at the cuartel most of the day."

Bernardo's eyes widened. He drew his hand to his chin forming the sign for a goatee and made a sweeping motion diagonally across his chest, starting at his shoulder.

"Yes, it will be strange to see Monastario in the cuartel's jail," Diego agreed. "But I can think of no better place for him," he remarked with a laugh. "Why don't we have breakfast in town, eh?"

Bernardo nodded his approval and went to saddle the horses.

* * *

The two men rode into the Pueblo de Los Angeles and stopped in front of the tavern. They tethered their horses and Diego motioned for Bernardo to go inside while he visited the cuartel. He glanced around to make sure no one was watching. "I will meet you inside after I speak with the viceroy," Diego explained before crossing the plaza.

The young don stopped at the gates of the cuartel where a soldier escorted him to the office of the former commandante. As Diego entered the military quarters, he spotted Capitán Monastario and Licenciado Pina locked in separate jail cells. Pina sat there quietly, his back leaning against the wall and his arms crossed over his chest. Monastario simply lay on the cot in his cell.

Diego turned his attention away from the jail cells and followed the lancer up the stairs to the office. While the corporal announced his presence, Diego took another look back. Monastario, still dressed in his uniform complete with medals, was now standing tall in the cell, as imposing a figure as ever. He locked eyes with the younger de la Vega and an evil grin spread across his lips.

Diego suppressed a shudder. Monastario came too close yesterday, and Diego knew he was damn lucky to be alive – and a free man today.

"You may enter now," the corporal said, drawing Diego's attention away from the former commandante. He felt the capitán's hard stare; it was like hot daggers piercing his back. Diego stepped through the door and the corporal closed it upon departing, leaving the young don alone with the viceroy and relieved to be free of Monastario's scrutinizing gaze.

"Buenos días, Diego, it is good of you to come," Don Estevan de la Callas greeted, standing from his seat behind the large desk. He motioned to the chair on the opposite side. "Please have a seat so we can get this unpleasantness over with."

Diego complied. He removed his hat and placed it on the corner of the desk. "If you don't mind my asking, exactly what do you need from me?" he inquired.

"I need to document the events of yesterday for the trial. It goes to demonstrate the defendants' mindsets," Don Estevan explained.

Diego nodded in understanding and went into the details of his arrest and detainment. The viceroy listened intently as he recorded the narrative on paper, occasionally glancing up at the young don or dipping his quill into a bottle of ink.

"Did Capitán Monastario ever present you with any evidence for the basis of this accusation?" he asked when Diego was finished. He placed the quill down next to the bottle of ink.

"No, sir," Diego answered honestly. "Only that whenever Zorro appeared, I was nowhere to be seen. In my defense, that could be said for many."

"You need no defense, Diego." The viceroy leaned back in the chair. He gazed curiously at the young man seated across from him. "I must admit, Diego, that up until this Zorro rode through the plaza last night, I was beginning to think you were the bandit."

"Me, a bandit? What would make you think such?" Diego feigned a shocked demeanor.

"That clumsy display you put on with a sword for one," he answered with a hint of merriment in his speech. "Either you were trying to hide your real skill with a blade, or your confidence has grown so much that you felt you needed another challenge."

Diego got the distinct impression the viceroy believe the latter rationale to be true and he struggled to keep his face neutral. If only he knew how much his friend Marcos told his father about their fencing competitions in Madrid. "There is a third explanation," he offered, feeling out the situation, "and that is I simply do not have great skill with the blade."

"Do you really expect me to believe that? Your talent was undeniable when you were just a boy, running around this pueblo always looking for mischief. As the son of Alejandro de la Vega, I would expect you to have no less that the finest instructors at the University in Madrid," Don Estevan countered. "Reports of this Zorro describe him as a trickster who is a devil with a blade. From what I understand, he has caused no harm; quite the opposite in fact. That sounds very much like a young boy I used to know."

"I am quite flattered, Don Estevan," Diego said, "but I do not share Zorro's skills."

"And what of all those fencing competitions you won?" Ah, the viceroy played the trump card Diego was waiting for. "Marcos was not thrilled when you came along and knocked him down a peg in the individual rankings, but he was thrilled to be teamed with you."

"Yes, those were fun times," Diego laughed softly at the memories of his many adventures with Marcos. "I do have to commend your son on always being a good sport."

"Ah, there is the customary de la Vega confidence," Don Estevan pointed out with satisfaction. "Now, what were you saying about not having skills?"

"There is a big difference between playing with a sword as a child and dueling for one's life as an adult," Diego began explaining, having already prepared for this moment. "Even in a competition, where emotions can overtake good judgment, there is limited threat. It turns out that I do not have the bravado to carry a sword and live that life."

"I am surprised to hear that," the viceroy's brow furrowed in concern. "Did something happen while you were at the university to shake your confidence with the blade?" he asked with genuine interest.

Diego became quiet, trying to find the right words to answer that question.

"I am sorry, Diego. You need not explain," he quickly interjected. "Duels can be a nasty business and things can quickly get out of control."

Diego blinked hard. Did the viceroy think he had killed someone? Maybe his plan was working too well. "I am afraid I have given you the wrong impression, Don Estevan. I did not kill anyone, either by accident or in haste, if that is what you mean." There were many things Diego had to do in order to protect Zorro's identity, but he would not disgrace the de la Vega name by allowing the viceroy to believe he had acted dishonorably.

"Then you were simply defeated in a fencing match?" Don Estevan finally asked in disbelief. He simply stared at the young man, as if wanting to say 'is that all?'

Diego shrugged his shoulders sheepishly.

"I would never have expected you, Diego, to lose your audacity with a blade," Don Estevan shook his head. "But then, I have known many good men who have had their confidence shaken after a defeat. It is nothing to be ashamed of."

"Gracias, sir," Diego replied with gratitude. "It was hard for me to accept, but I have learned to move on and be at peace with my life the way it is."

"That is good to hear," the viceroy said, sympathy evident in his gaze. An uncomfortable silence began settling in the room and he cleared his throat. "Well, I guess we are done here. Just read this over and sign if you agree with what's written." He handed a piece of parchment to the young man.

Diego carefully read it over, relieved that it was a straightforward account of the previous day's events. There was nothing that would put him in a precarious spot concerning his alter ego. He dipped the nib of the quill into the bottle of ink and signed his name.

"How long will you remain in Los Angeles?" Diego inquired as he handed the paper back to the viceroy.

"I will be leaving tomorrow morning. Capitán Monastario and Señor Pina will be transferred at that time. I want to make sure everything is in order and no mistakes are made."

"It's a shame my father is out of town on business. He will be sorely disappointed that he missed you and Constancia," Diego remarked.

"Please give him my best regards."

"I shall," Diego said as he neared the door. "Speaking of my father, he would never forgive me if I didn't extend the de la Vega hospitality. Will you and Constancia join me for dinner at my hacienda this evening?"

"We would be delighted," Don Estevan replied.

"Then I will see you this evening. Adiós," the young don saluted the viceroy and left.

Diego's eyes narrowed into a squint as he stepped from the office into the late morning's bright sunshine. He pulled on his hat for much welcomed shade. "You baboso!" The frequent insult rang through the cuartel and Diego turned his attention to the jail cells.

It seemed Sergeant Garcia was still on the receiving end of his former commanding officer's bad mood. Diego shook his head and started to leave when the familiar voice took aim on him.

"de la Vega!"

Diego met the former commandante's eyes for the second time that day. He took a deep breath and firmed his resolve. The capitán's sudden ability to rattle him unnerved Diego and he needed to regain the upper hand.

He took a few steps forward and noticed the sergeant's anxious look. "Sergeant Garcia," he greeted. "It's good to see you today. I hope the prisoners are not giving you any difficulties."

Relief washed over Garcia. "It is good to see you too, Don Diego. I was…"

"So, de la Vega," Monastario interrupted, "I take it you are enjoying your freedom. Savor it now, because it will not last."

Diego shook his head. "Are you still on this silly subject of Zorro?" Diego asked with a cheery voice, hoping to ruffle the former commandante's feathers a little. "I would think you'd have more pressing matters to concern yourself with."

"Do not worry about me, Señor Zorro," Monastario said with a mischievous grin.

Diego feigned looking insulted.

"But Capitán," Garcia interjected, "you saw it with your own eyes. Don Diego cannot be Zorro."

"Shut up you idiot," Monastario ordered. "That was just another one of his tricks. If that was the real Zorro, he would not have just ridden through the plaza. He would have shown his masked face in the tavern and tried to make a fool of me."

"That is not hard to do," Garcia mumbled.

Diego failed to stifle a laugh. He covered his mouth with his hand to hide his grin.

The capitán's face reddened. His fingers curled into a fist and his right leg twitched as if he was going to kick the sergeant in the rear. Fortunately for Garcia, a set of steel bars separated them.

"You baboso," the capitán cried again. "How dare you talk to your commanding officer like that?"

"But you are no longer his commanding officer," Diego chimed in, drawing Monastario's anger away from the sergeant. Garcia looked grateful for the intervention.

The anger was gone in an instant, replaced by the cold, calculating demeanor of earlier. "No thanks to you, Señor Zorro," Monastario commented, the evil grin reappearing on his lips.

Diego waved his hand, shaking off the remark.

Monastario leaned casually against the cell's bars. "Does you father know you are the fox?"

Diego stiffened.

"Ah, so I struck a chord," Monastario said victoriously. "You are very protective of him, aren't you, Diego?" The capitán's blue eyes sparkled with mirth. "For that reason, I bet you haven't told him. If only I figured out your weakness earlier."

Diego's eyes narrowed, but he remained quiet.

"I promise you this, de la Vega. I will not be in a cell forever. I will be exonerated, and my first undertaking after being released will be to settle my score with you."

Diego's teeth clenched and his hands tightened into fists, but continued to remain quiet. He would not allow the capitán the satisfaction of riling the de la Vega temper.

"My first inclination was to let your father watch you hang," Monastario threatened, "but now I think I will let you watch him die at the end of my blade first."

"You leave my father out of this, Monastario," Diego seethed, taking a step toward the cell, his voice dripping with more malice than he intended. "This is between you and me. If you come anywhere near him, I swear I'll…"

"That is enough!" Sergeant Garcia demanded. He turned his attention on Monastario. "You will not talk to Don Diego like that," he ordered with uncharacteristic prowess, "and you will not threaten Don Alejandro."

Diego jumped. He was glad to see the sergeant's commanding presence was equally shocking to the capitán. He observed in amusement as Monastario's jaw dropped open and his eyes widened at being dressed down by a lower ranking soldier. The don used this opportunity to regain his composure. He silently cursed the former commandante's newfound capability to elicit such an emotional reaction from him.

"Gracias, Sergeant," Diego said stepping away. "I appreciate you standing up for my family."

Garcia followed him toward the cuartel gates. "I can't believe I just said that to him," the sergeant's voice was filled with apprehension. "What if he does get out of jail? He will skin me alive!"

The sudden change in the soldier's demeanor saddened Diego. "I do not think we have to worry about that. In fact, it seems the capitán is bordering on madness." He patted the sergeant on the shoulder.

This gesture seemed to reassure Garcia and he calmed down a little. "Oh, that is all he thinks about, Don Diego," he said with a groan. "It is Zorro this and Zorro that. And he is utterly convinced you are the bandit, even though that is impossible!"

The sergeant's unwavering trust in his friend brought a sad smile to Diego's face. "It is much too warm to be outside right now," the young man observed, the cheer returning to his voice. "If you have no immediate duties to perform, would you join me for a late breakfast at the tavern, Sergeant…I mean Commandante?" he quickly corrected.

The acting commandante's face brightened, "Sí, Don Diego. I would like that very much." The two men headed off to the cooler confines of the tavern.

* * *

The hacienda appeared on the horizon and Don Alejandro de la Vega dug his heels into his horse to spur him on faster. Everardo responded by replacing the eager trot with a full blown gallop. Alejandro pulled the steed to a stop outside the gates of his home, tied the reins to the hitching post and hurried inside.

He literally ran into Bernardo on the patio. "Ah, Bernardo, where is Diego?" The deaf-mute tilted his head and smiled, giving the older don an expectant look and Alejandro let out a frustrated sigh.

He walked into the sala with the manservant following close behind. The room was empty. He peered into the library, and finding it empty he headed for the kitchen. "Where is everybody?" he exclaimed out loud stepping into yet another deserted room.

He turned and bumped into Bernardo. Alejandro started to ask him a question once more, but stopped and threw up his hands in defeat. "What is the point when you can neither speak nor hear?" The older don sidestepped the well meaning manservant, who stayed close on his heels, and crossed back through the sala.

"Father, I was not expecting you home for several more days."

The sound of his son's voice stunned Alejandro and he halted in his tracks, causing Bernardo to collide with him again. He grasped Bernardo by the shoulders and gently pushed him back, trying to indicate for him to stay put.

He then turned his attention to Diego, who closed the book he was reading and stood from his chair. "I just passed through this room a moment ago and you were not here," Alejandro stated in bewilderment. "How can you be…" he trailed off. Before Diego could say anything, he waved his hand to dismiss the matter.

With soft hesitation, he finally voiced the question that had occupied his mind all morning. "Is it true my son, that the tyrant Monastario has been arrested?"

A wide grin spread across Diego's face and Alejandro could feel his heart skip a beat.

"Sí, Father. Monastario is sitting in a jail cell at this very moment."

"Saints be praised." Alejandro's voice was filled with joyous relief. In a blink of an eye he was across the room, taking his son into a strong embrace. Relaxing his grip on Diego, he stepped back, still holding on to his son's arms. "I can hardly believe it. After all this time, his reign of terror is actually over."

Diego freed his arm and caught Bernardo's attention. He curled his hand as if holding a glass and brought it to his lips, motioning for the manservant to bring refreshments. Bernardo nodded his understanding and disappeared.

Alejandro watched this exchange with great interest before slumping into a nearby chair. Realizing he was still wearing his hat, he removed it and tossed it on an adjacent table.

"Are you all right, Father?" Diego voiced with concern.

"Yes, my son. I am just tired from the long, hard ride," he answered. "That and I can hardly believe it is true. You must tell me more."

"Of course, Father. But first, how did you know that the capitán had been arrested? Did the news travel that quickly?" Diego leaned again the piano.

"Don Alfonso and I finished up our business much earlier than we had anticipated. He decided to stay in Santa Barbara for another few days before returning to San Francisco, but I chose to return home early. I did not trust being away from the pueblo any longer than necessary with Monastario in charge," Alejandro began explaining.

His story was interrupted when Bernardo entered the room carrying a tray with a bottle of wine and two glasses. "Gracias," Alejandro said upon being served a glass. He didn't know why, but he always felt compelled to verbally thank the deaf-mute.

"When I arrived at the Mission San Gabriel Arcángel yesterday evening, there was word the viceroy was seen heading to Los Angeles," Alejandro continued. "At that point, I decided to leave early in the morning in hope of having a chance to meet with him today and discuss the situation in our pueblo. To my surprise, I awoke to talk of Monastario having been arrested! I couldn't believe my ears and had to see if for myself, so I raced home."

The older don sipped from the glass. "Oh, that reminds me, Everardo is out front and needs to be attended to. I must find a vaquero to take care of him."

Alejandro began to stand, but Diego stopped him. "Bernardo can do it." Diego made a series of motions that Alejandro didn't quite follow, but Bernardo obviously understood them and left the sala. He watched the servant walk to the front gate through the window.

"It is amazing the way you are able to communicate with him," he said, the awe evident in his voice.

Diego shrugged it off, "he has a way of understanding what is wanted of him."

"Now, Diego, tell me everything that happened." Alejandro wasted no time in getting the topic of conversation back on track.

"Well, actually, it's kind of an amusing story," Diego began hesitantly. "I guess you could say it began yesterday morning when Sergeant Garcia showed up here with a detachment of soldiers. He very reluctantly placed me under arrest."

"Arrest?" Alejandro repeated in shock. "On what grounds?" he demanded, the de la Vega temper rearing its ugly head.

"Capitán Monastario claimed that I was the bandit Zorro."

"Zorro," Alejandro echoed. He struggled to keep his voice steady, trying to suppress the suspicions he had regarding his son and the masked bandit. "Why would Monastario accuse you of being Zorro?" If his voice shook, Diego gave no indication of noticing it.

"Some silly nonsense about how we are never seen together," Diego answered nonchalantly. "I tried to explain to him how ridiculous this theory of his was. Of course I would avoid being seen with the bandit; he is a dangerous outlaw with a price on his head!"

Alejandro's eyes narrowed. Since the night he had been shot by Monastario and rescued by Zorro, he had begun wondering about the masked man's identity. If Monastario had also come to the same conclusion…

"But our befuddled capitán continued to insist that I was the outlaw. When a lancer alerted him that the viceroy's carriage was seen in the area, he concocted this grand plan to impress him. I was kept locked up in Monastario's quarters all day, under the watchful eye of a lancer who had orders to shoot me if I tried anything. It was insufferable," Diego moaned. "The man has such horrible taste in literature."

Alejandro shook his head in disappointment. "You were accused of a crime that carries a death sentence, and the worst part of this ordeal for you was Monastario's taste in books?" he asked incredulously. The suspicions that were so strong a moment ago began to fade once again. Was his son really so oblivious to what was happening around him?

Diego shrugged his shoulders as if to say 'what else was I to do?' He sipped from his glass of Madeira, and casually leaned back into the chair. "Monastario held a large gathering for the viceroy and his daughter at the tavern. When the festivities started winding down, he had his soldiers escort me in wearing the black clothes of Zorro."

This turn of events sparked Alejandro's curiosity and his eyes lit up.

"Fortunately, I was able to talk the viceroy into sending the capitán outside for a few minutes. It was during that time that I changed clothes and one of the soldiers donned the black attire, complete with mask. When Monastario returned, and me out of sight, he continued to insist that the man in black was the real Zorro. Needless to say, he was quite infuriated when it was revealed one of his own lancers was behind the mask!" Diego laughed.

"So, that stunt was enough to warrant his arrest?"

"It didn't exactly end there," Diego expounded. "He was so angry with the deception we pulled that he challenged me to a duel."

"You dueled with Monastario?" Alejandro asked with astonishment. "Obviously, since you are right before me, you won." His features lit up with pride.

"Not exactly, Father. It pains me to say this, but I am afraid I will probably now have the reputation of being the clumsiest swordsman in California," his son stated sheepishly.

"Nonsense, Diego. Even as a child, you showed considerable grace and skill with a blade. Your time in Spain should have refined those abilities, not eroded them. You may choose not to use a sword, and I may never understand your reasons, but you are not clumsy." Alejandro spoke those words with pride, but could only watch in silent pain as Diego shifted uncomfortable in his chair.

How had they grow so far apart in so short of time? What had happened to Diego during his stay in Madrid to change him so much?

"I am honored you think that, Father, but I am sorry to say that you are mistaken," Diego said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Our duel did quite a lot of damage to the tavern, and I offered to cover the cost of the damages. It's not the innkeeper's fault his establishment suffered the brunt of Monastario's rage."

Alejandro shook his head in confusion. "You are not making sense, Diego. If Monastario bested you, he would have run you through. But here you are in front of me with no apparent wounds."

"Well, the duel did end with Monastario's sword to my throat. He wanted me to confess that I was Zorro or he would kill me," Diego's eyes looked down, disgrace evident in every inch of his tall frame. "Fortunately, the real Zorro rode to my rescue."

Those last words were like a punch in the stomach to Alejandro. Zorro rescued Diego? Then it was impossible for them to be one and the same…

Alejandro's shoulders dropped in defeat and he slumped back into the chair. He regarded his son carefully for a few minutes, disappointed in himself that he would rather have an outlaw as a son than the man who sat across from him; a man that was intelligent, caring and very much like his mother.

Alejandro felt like a fool.

He stood and placed a reassuring hand on his son's shoulder. "Diego, my son, do not feel ashamed. I am just relieved that you are alright and that Monastario will finally get his comeuppance."

Diego looked up and met his father's eyes.

"Gracias, Father. That means a lot to me."

Alejandro smiled and patted his son's back, "I am going to wash up before supper."

"Oh, that reminds me, I have invited Don Estevan and Constancia to our hacienda this evening."

"That is welcomed news. It has been too long since we have seen each other and there is much to talk about," Alejandro reflected. He paused in concern, "Will the preparations be ready? There was no one in the kitchen when I arrived home."

Diego laughed. "Oh, Maria is preparing a grand meal. She sent the servants in search of only the freshest ingredients. She is probably out in the garden gathering herbs, or even flowers to decorate the table with. I insisted she not go through so much trouble, but she has her mind set on it."

"I can understand her sentiments," a large smile brightened Alejandro's face. "I have a strong feeling much better times are ahead for our pueblo."

Diego nodded his agreement. "Since many of the servants are busy with tonight's meal or in the plaza celebrating, I will fetch Bernardo and have him draw your bath."

* * *

Alejandro entered his bedroom clad in a dark crimson robe, feeling refreshed from his bath. The dust and dirt from the road had been washed away and the exhaustion he felt from his trip was replaced with a sense of relief and joy. He stretched his arms and back before starting to dress.

He opened the wardrobe and pulled out his attire for the evening. After pulling on his trousers and buttoning his shirt, he strode over to the bureau. He opened the top drawer and rummaged though its contents in search of the perfect cravat. Next, he opened an adjacent drawer and pulled out a matching sash.

Holding the black silk in his hands, he was reminded of Zorro once again and his thoughts drifted back to his earlier conversation with Diego. The clumsiest swordsman in California, ha! He tossed the material on the bureau. Kneeling down, he opened the bottom drawer and pulled out a small box buried under the clothing.

Not much larger than a cigar box, it was made of dark mahogany wood with a silky smooth finish. Alejandro carried it over to the desk in his room and opened the lid. He pulled out the papers on top and set them aside. Pushing a few trinkets out of the way, he found the objects he was looking for and removed them from the box.

A bundle of letters remained at the bottom. Alejandro gently ran his finger along the pink ribbon that held them together. A lump caught in his throat and tears formed in the corners of his eyes when he reminisced about the letters he had sent Isabella. Alejandro was a man of action, not of words, so his letters to her were not frequent, nor the most eloquent. But she had kept them all. He smiled wistfully and turned his attention back to the objects he removed.

He held the two items in his hands for a long time, needing to feel the weight of the gold medal and the crisp material of the first place ribbon. He admired the shine of the gold medallion and ran his thumb over the engraving of two crossed swords; he focused on the embroidered letters of the red fabric that carried the city of Madrid's coat of arms.

Alejandro finally put them down gently and reached for the nearby papers, letters he saved from his son. It had been so long since he last read them. He took the one on top and looked at the date. Diego had sent it not long after arriving at the university. He unfolded it and began reading:

_Dear Father,_

_I have arrived in Spain safely and without incident. I am proud to say that I survived the voyage by ship without getting seasick. The city of Madrid is so large; it's unlike anything that I could have imagined. The size dwarfs even Monterey._

_I have met up with my friend Marcos de la Callas. He sends you his best wishes. It turns out we will be roommates at the university. You are probably worried about the exploits we will get into, but you need not have to. One man in particular has taken it upon himself to keep me out of trouble! His name is Bernardo. He is performing the role of manservant for me, but he is a friend far more than a mere servant._

_While he is mute, he never allows his disability to interfere with his enjoyment of life. You should see him perform magic tricks for the children in town. He can make their eyes light up like it is Christmas. I hope you will have a chance to meet him one day._

_I shall write again soon._

_With love,  
__Your son Diego_

Alejandro's eyes widened. The Bernardo in the letters had to be the same man that made the journey with him home. But why did Diego only refer to him a mute?

He pulled out the next letter:

_Dear Father,_

_My first year of studies is coming to a close. It has been an amazing year. I have garnered a new appreciation for the novels Mother read to me as a child and the poems she would recite to me at bedtime._

_In fact, it wasn't until recently that I came to realize poetry has an especially useful function. The lyrical words melt many of the pretty senoritas' hearts. There is one lady in particular that has captured my affection, but her father is not too fond of Californios. But I hope to change that!_

_I have included with this letter something I want you to have. It is the first place ribbon I won in the Comunidad de Madrid Regional Fencing Competition. My instructors say that I have excellent fundamentals combined with a natural ability that is not often seen. I do not mean to brag, but I feel it is because of your early instruction that I am excelling so well. For that, gracias, Father._

_Love,  
__Diego_

The pride swelled in Alejandro's heart. Not only was his son excelling in the art of fencing, he was giving his father credit! With a renewed energy he had not felt in over a year, he read another letter. This one was dated just a few weeks after the last:

_Dear Father,_

_It saddens me to inform you that I have failed to win the heart of the beautiful senorita I mentioned in my last letter. Florentina has become betrothed to a prosperous merchant from Barcelona. Marcos chides me that it was just an infatuation and I am beginning to believe he is correct. Losing her was not as painful as I would have suspected._

_Anyway, Marcos is just happy news of the betrothal did not affect me at the Estoque de Oro competition. We took first place in the team event. I also took first place in the individual matches. I am sending the medal home to you. My instructors believe I will go far in the competitions, possibly even making it to the Royal Cup Invitational._

_I wish you were here to witness one of our fencing tournaments. I cannot wait to finish my time at the university and return home so I can demonstrate all that I have learned. I am eager to engage you in a friendly duel._

_Love,  
__Diego_

The energy that filled Alejandro began to drain as he read that last line. These were the letters of the boy he raised, of the young man he sent to Spain for an education. These were the letters of his son. Where was the Diego who wanted to fence with his father?

He checked the dates on the remaining letters. The last one arrived just two weeks before Monastario took over as Commandante of the Pueblo de Los Angeles. In it, Diego wrote of his honor of being invited to the prestigious Royal Cup Invitational.

Alejandro threw the letter down in disgust. What happened to his son? Why would he deny such skill? Even if he had been bested in the Royal Cup matches, it would be nothing to be ashamed of. Only the finest swordsmen in Europe merited invitations.

For the second time that day, the older de la Vega's thoughts drifted back to that fateful night when he and the other dons stormed the cuartel to free the Torres women. Diego had warned him they were riding to their deaths, and he was nearly right. But did Alejandro listen? No, he dismissed his son and called him a coward. Had it not been for Zorro, he would surely have been killed.

He recalled riding off on the big black stallion, Zorro holding him so he would not fall from the saddle. Even on such a magnificent animal they could not outrun the soldiers doubled up, especially when the glow of the full moon worked against them and one of the riders was wounded. The masked man maneuvered the horse behind some rocks and shrubs and helped him dismount.

Alejandro watched with great interest as Zorro used his sword to cut off a section of a large shrub. He secured it to the saddle and made it look like a rider by wrapping Alejandro's riding cloak around it and placing his hat on top. With a familiar voice, he sent the horse on its way. Miraculously enough the soldiers began to pursue the horse and makeshift rider.

It reminded Alejandro so much of a trick his son would pull.

The masked man knelt down and tried to attend to the wound as best he could. He was surprised by the bandit's gentle nature. In the moonlight Alejandro was able to get a good look at the eyes behind the mask. Eyes that were eerily similar to Diego's.

Maybe that was why he suddenly voiced his dreams to this mysterious man in black. Foolish dreams of his son returning from Spain and fighting by his side. The pain coursed through Alejandro's body and blackness closed in on the edges of his thoughts.

As he slipped into unconsciousness, Alejandro saw into the masked man's eyes once more. He was stunned by the emotions he saw in the hazel orbs, and he drifted off into darkness hearing the sound of Diego's voice. _You will have many years left, my father, to live and to dream…_

A knock on the bedroom door stirred Alejandro from his memories. He jerked his head toward the sound, "Just a moment." He shoved the letters and awards back into the box, placing it under a stack of papers in a desk drawer.

Another knock reverberated through the room and Alejandro knew it had to be Bernardo. Any of the other servants would have patiently waited until he opened the door or gave word to enter. Alejandro opened the door and, not surprisingly, found the deaf-mute.

Bernardo gave him a curious look before pulling out a pocket watch from his vest. "Ah, it is almost time for supper," Alejandro said. The manservant just looked at him with a smile. The don shook his head. "I keep talking to a deaf man," he mumbled, turning around and walking to the bureau.

Bernardo followed him in. While Alejandro was adjusting his sash, he watched as Bernardo picked up the robe and went to hang it in the wardrobe. The don's eyes narrowed.

Alejandro turned his head, focusing on the silver platter sitting on the edge of the bureau. On it sat a glass of water, a lemon and a knife. He picked up the glass and placed it on the bureau. With Bernardo's back still to him, Alejandro knocked the platter off.

It fell to the floor with a loud clang. Bernardo didn't make the slightest move.

When the manservant finished his task, turned and spotted the platter on the floor, he raced over to pick it up. Alejandro shook his head, suddenly feeling ridiculous at this little trick. Why would a man want to pretend to be deaf? The older don tied his cravat, slipped into his jacket and headed downstairs.

* * *

"Don Estevan, Constancia, it is so good to see you again," Alejandro greeted his guests as they exited their carriage. He took Constancia's hand. "You are more lovely than ever, my dear."

"Gracias, Don Alejandro," she replied with a blush.

"I should probably be surprised to see you, Don Alejandro," Don Estevan remarked, "but I am not. Diego had mentioned that you were out of town on business. It seemed we were destined to miss each other once again. I should have known the news would travel fast and bring you with."

Alejandro laughed. "Yes, it seems I could not have chosen a more opportune time to return."

"I am glad fate worked in our favor tonight," Don Estevan said, shaking Alejandro's hand and patting him on the shoulder. "It's good to see you, my friend."

"It is such a lovely night. Why don't we sit on the patio until supper is ready?" Alejandro asked, guiding his guests through the gates and to the table. "I have some Mourvèdre I am eager to get your opinion on."

Don Estevan and Constancia sat down, with Constancia commenting on the beautiful flowers. Bernardo began pouring the red wine into crystal goblets while Alejandro went in search of Diego. When father and son returned to the patio, more greetings were made and the group began discussing the latest de la Vega vintage and catching up on old times.

"How is Marcos doing?" Alejandro inquired, slightly surprised that Diego hadn't asked yet. He had the strangest feeling that both his son and the viceroy were avoiding any talk of Diego's time in Spain. "Since he was a year ahead of Diego at the university, he should have finished with his studies about the time Diego returned."

"Sí, he has," Don Estevan answered. "In fact, my son appears to be following in my footsteps. He remained in Madrid and accepted a position as an envoy for King Ferdinand."

"You mean Marcos is partly responsible for securing peace for Spain?" Diego asked incredulously. "We are in a world of trouble!" he exclaimed with a laugh, the group sharing in on the fun.

"And he is probably leaving a trail of broken hearts across Europe," Constancia chimed in.

"Now that is more like the Marcos I know," Diego quipped. "But in all seriousness, I am surprised that he decided on such a serious path. He never showed much interest in foreign affairs."

"We were surprised, too," Constancia agreed.

Alejandro observed his son, the conversation falling to the background. He was enjoying this new side of Diego. He was relaxed, confident and genuinely interested in the subject at hand. So often lately, his son appeared oblivious to everything around him. Even his voice was a bit different tonight.

This was his son; this was the Diego he knew.

"People change," Don Estevan explained. "You probably understand that better than most, Diego."

Those words startled Alejandro from his thoughts. What was this about Diego changing? Damn, why wasn't he paying attention? Alejandro started to question Don Estevan's last remark, but was interrupted when Maria came out of the hacienda to announce supper was ready.

The group moved inside and the moment passed. Alejandro silently cursed again.

After everyone was seated at the ornately decorated dining table, Don Estevan and Constancia to one side and Diego and Alejandro on the other, Maria brought out a tray of _tapas_. After the Gambas al Ajillo was eaten, she returned with bowls of creamy gazpacho.

The group continued to reminisce about past times, interspersed with lively conversation about the foods and wines they have tasted on their journeys through California, Spain and Mexico. After they had finished the _plato principal_, the main course, Don Alejandro turned to Maria.

"You have outdone yourself, Maria. The meal was fantastic," he complimented.

"I have to second that," Don Estevan chimed in. "I do not think I have ever tasted such a tender, flavorful roast of beef before."

"Gracias, patrón, gracias, your Excellency," she thanked the men, unable to hide her enthusiasm at the praise. She scooped up the plates with Bernardo's help and headed off to the kitchen to fetch dessert.

"Perhaps we should have invited our new commandante to supper," Diego remarked with a spark of mischief in his eye. "I think he would have enjoyed this meal more than all of us combined."

"Our new commandante?" Alejandro repeated in puzzlement.

"Sí, Father," Diego responded. "It must have slipped my mind earlier. Sergeant Garcia is now in charge of the garrison."

"You cannot be serious," Alejandro exclaimed, his eyes wide in shock. "Why did you not mention this earlier? Garcia is not equipped to take command." He looked to Don Estevan to see if this was true and noticed the viceroy trying to gallantly suppress a smile. Alejandro's eyes narrowed. He turned to Constancia, who could no longer hold back and began to laugh.

"Sergeant Garcia is only in charge temporarily, until the new capitán arrives," Don Estevan clarified. He, too, joined in on the laughter along with Diego.

"Oh, you should have seen your face, Don Alejandro," Constancia commented with delight. "I have never seen you like that before."

Alejandro turned his son, trying to maintain a serious expression, but failing.

"I am sorry, Father," Diego explained with a smile, "but I could not resist."

Yes, Alejandro contemplated, this was a side of his son he hoped he would be seeing much more of now that Monastario was gone. Maria returned to the sala with plates of mouth-watering flan. As the group of dinner companions ate dessert, the conversation turned to the previous day's events.

"It's surprising we made it through most of the evening without any mention of our former commandante," Alejandro observed.

"I suppose we had too much to catch up on," Constancia noted. "It has been wonderful tonight seeing you and Diego again after all this time."

Alejandro nodded in agreement. He looked to Don Estevan. "When I arrived home today, Diego explained what happened yesterday, but he did not go into much detail regarding what precipitated Monastario's arrest. Were the outlandish charges against my son enough to warrant his arrest?"

"Oh, I had enough evidence to arrest the capitán before I even arrived. That little show he put on last night was just the icing on the cake," Don Estevan answered. "After receiving letters from Diego detailing the abuses in Los Angeles, the governor and I began looking into other reports we had received about Monastario's behavior and actions. It was his arrest of Don Ignacio Torres on treason charges that finally cemented his fate."

Alejandro couldn't contain his look of surprise. Diego's letters actually worked?

"I am only sorry that this el Zorro did not come into the tavern and slice Monastario's nose off," Constancia laughed.

Alejandro's brow furrowed in confusion. "I thought that Zorro rode to your rescue last night, Diego?" he turned, facing his son. That sheepish look was back, and Alejandro wondered at this sudden change in his son that apparently went unnoticed to their guests.

"He did, Don Alejandro," Constancia answered with admiration. "Unfortunately, he only rode through the plaza, drawing the soldier's attention away," she added wistfully. "I wish I could have seen him in person," the excitement returned to her voice.

Alejandro studied his son carefully while Constancia spoke. So, Diego and Zorro were not seen together. Diego omitted this little detail earlier. Suddenly, his suspicions were raised once again. Someone else could have donned the black clothes and ridden through the plaza. Alejandro mentally chastised himself. He was being a foolish old man again.

"You do not seem very taken with our former commandante," Diego chuckled.

"The man is a pompous fool," Constancia declared. "He has all the charm of a snake."

"We have an excellent judge of character in our midst," Diego proclaimed with a laugh. "That description is quite fitting, although I don't think Monastario would be too amused."

The sheepish demeanor disappeared and Diego appeared relaxed and confident again. Maybe he wasn't being such a foolish old man, Alejandro thought. His son never spoke ill of the capitán before. In fact, it seemed he always made an effort to rationalize the man's actions.

"What will happen now?" Alejandro asked, trying to concentrate on the topic at hand.

"Capitán Monastario and Senor Pina will be transferred to El Presidio Real de Santa Barbara tomorrow where they will remain until the trial location is set," Don Estevan began explaining. "The local military officials want the trial to take place there, since the pair fall under the Second Military District's jurisdiction. The governor wants to try them in Monterey. Then there are the senior officials in Spain that want Monastario tried in Madrid, in order to make an example of him. So, the final location is still being settled on."

"Do you think the charges will stand?" Diego asked with a seriousness that startled Alejandro.

"I have no doubts that both men will be found guilty," Don Estevan said with confidence.

The dessert was long finished and the group of dinner companions moved to the sitting area in the sala while Maria and Bernardo cleaned off the table. "Have any arrangements been made for a replacement for our temporary leader, Sergeant Garcia?" Alejandro asked with a hint of merriment. He caught Diego softly laughing at the question.

"Sí, Capitán Juan Melindez will be arriving in a few weeks to take command. He has been assigned to the garrison at Santa Clara for the past two years, showing himself to be an excellent officer," Don Estevan answered. "I think the time is right for him to take command of his own unit."

"Perhaps we should have Constancia meet him first, and get her opinion," Diego joked.

"Oh, but I have," she responded with a smile. "Father and I have met him several times. Capitán Melindez is a wonderful man. Every bit the opposite of the snake," she laughed.

"That is good to hear," Diego praised.

"The governor has also appointed a King's Magistrate to the Pueblo de Los Angeles to help the transition from Monastario's tyranny go as smoothly as possible. His name is Carlos Galindo," Don Estevan added. "I do not know him very well. We have only met briefly at a few official functions."

"I will have to meet him to see if he merits my seal of approval," Constancia teased.

The festive mood of the room overjoyed Alejandro. It had been far too long since he spent an evening with friends laughing and joking. With Monastario in charge, gatherings became somber events where they criticized the latest injustices. Yes, better times were ahead for the pueblo.

Diego stood and moved to the piano. He began playing a melodic tune that Alejandro instantly recognized as one Isabella used to play. The gentle notes brought back fond memories of his wife sitting with Diego on the bench, teaching him the different chords and notes. They would sit together and play for hours.

Constancia joined Diego, leaning against the piano. Alejandro watched the two of them, both with smiles on their lips and sparks in their eyes. Constancia was beautiful, intelligent and not afraid to speak her mind. She would be a good match for Diego, Alejandro mused. Now that things were settling down in the pueblo, it was time for the laughter and cries of children to be heard in the hacienda again. Alejandro wanted to hold his grandchildren in his arms and playfully chase them around the patio as they got older.

"Father, you must sit down and play," Constancia urged Don Estevan. "I want to dance with Diego."

"I have not played in such a long time," Don Estevan asserted. "I'd rather listen to Diego play."

"Please, Father," Constancia grasped his arm. "You are being too modest."

Alejandro had to suppress a chuckle when Don Estevan reluctantly got up and took Diego's place at the piano. A daughter's persuasiveness on her father was a powerful thing. At that moment, Alejandro knew he wanted both a grandson and granddaughter. He would love to see the effects a daughter would have on Diego. The woman his son marries would have to be strong minded, because he doubted Diego would ever be able to say no to his little girl!

Diego took Constancia's hand and led her to an open area of the sala. They began dancing to the upbeat melody Don Estevan played. Alejandro smiled and waved them on, observing his son's sure steps and graceful movements. Realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

The eyes, the familiar voice, the height, the broad shoulders…Alejandro did his best not to stare at the couple. He strived to keep a light smile on his lips and his expression upbeat.

The similarities between his son and Zorro were uncanny. The bandit made his first appearance right after Diego returned to Los Angeles. He fought with a brazen skill that no one in the area had witnessed before. How did Sergeant Garcia describe him? Like a devil in black with a blade.

Alejandro _knew_ his son possessed such skill, even if he denied it. Even Monastario had come to the same conclusion. Many things could be said of the capitán, but he was not stupid.

Alejandro mentally kicked himself. How could he not have seen it earlier? Because Diego didn't want him to see it, he answered his own question, and his son was very good at playing the part of a poet. If he could deflect his own father's suspicions, who else would ever suspect him of being the masked bandit?

But why would his son not confide in him? A small niggling doubt lingered in his thoughts. Maybe he was wrong, maybe he was just being a foolish old man again.

The song came to an end and Diego led Constancia back the sitting area. Alejandro forced himself to set those thoughts aside and to engage in the light banter and enjoy the company of his friends. As the evening came to a close, he came to a decision. He would confront Diego.

* * *

The sound of the library door opening drew Diego's attention from the book in his hands. Bernardo entered, pointed at the young don and then pointed in different directions.

"You have been looking for me?" Diego asked.

Bernardo nodded his head. He placed his hands together with his palms facing and leaned his head against them, indicating a pillow.

"You thought I was sleeping?" Diego said in amusement.

Bernardo nodded his head again.

"I am afraid I have too much on my mind this evening. I do not think I could fall asleep even if I wanted to," Diego commented. "In fact, I have been trying to focus on this same page for nearly half an hour and I still have not managed to read it." He closed the book, stood up and tossed it on the chair.

"Besides," he added, clasping the mute on the back, "we have work to do."

Bernardo's eyebrows crinkled and he stared at Diego in confusion momentarily, before his eyes lit up in understanding. A wide grinned formed on his lips and he made a 'Z' in the air with his finger.

"Yes, Zorro rides tonight," Diego confirmed. "The soldiers will be escorting Monastario and Pina to El Presidio Real de Santa Barbara tomorrow. I do not think our former commandante will try anything, but some of the lancers may still be loyal to him. It would be for the best if Zorro kept an eye on things tonight, don't you agree?"

Bernardo smiled in delight and went to open the secret passage behind the bookcase. He frowned when he realized Diego was not behind him. Instead, he was heading to the library door.

"Go saddle Tornado. I will be there in few minutes. It is nearly midnight, and after the long day and hard ride, my father should be sound asleep right now. I will check on him and meet you in the cave," Diego instructed.

After Bernardo disappeared into the passage, Diego exited the library and strode through the sala, blowing out any lanterns that were still burning. Crossing the patio and about to ascend the staircase, a slight movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention.

He twisted and saw his father sitting at the table, a cigar in his hand. "I am sorry. I did not mean to startle you my son." Alejandro's voice was soft. "Please join me," he offered.

Diego sat in the chair next to his father while Alejandro reached over and poured his son a glass of Madeira. He opened a wooden box on the table and offered his son a cigar. Diego accepted one and used the nearby tinderbox to light it.

The night air was cool and refreshing. Skies were clear and a soft glow from the crescent moon illuminated the patio, allowing an occasional breeze to create dancing shadows. Father and son sat in silence savoring the fine cigars and wine, gazing up at the stars above. Thoughts of Bernardo sitting in the cave and riding as Zorro faded from Diego's mind.

"This is nice," Alejandro said, breaking the silence. He sipped his wine. "We should sit out here more often and enjoy the night sky."

"Yes, it is nice," Diego agreed, regarding his father carefully. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy his father's company, but he was curious as to what brought about this mood.

"It has been a long time since we have sat alone and talked," Alejandro noted. "In fact, we have not done so since your return from Spain."

Diego took a long draw of his cigar, trying to hide his growing uneasiness at the turn of the conversation. He had deflected so many suspicions regarding his alter-ego and given so many excuses about his abilities these last two days. Did he really have the energy to continue this charade with his father?

"When you returned home from the university, we never had much chance to talk about all that you learned and experienced during your years abroad," Alejandro observed, his eyes focused on his son.

"There is really not much to tell," Diego tried to explain.

"Nonsense," Alejandro refuted. "My only child travels halfway across the world and spends three years away from home; of course there are stories to be told."

At a loss for words, Diego could only shrug his shoulders.

"You never speak of your time in Madrid. I have often wondered if you regret that I called you home early. That perhaps you are angry with me." The hesitation and pain in his father's voice caught Diego off guard.

"Of course not, Father," Diego tried to reassure him. "I am not angry about being called home early. I will admit that at first, I didn't understand why you had sent for me. Everything you wrote was so different from what I knew that it was hard to comprehend. It wasn't until I arrived home and saw Don Ignacio being arrested on treason charges that it all made sense."

"But why did you not take action?" Alejandro asked, greatly anticipating his son's answer.

_I did take action, Father. I donned the mask of Zorro._

Oh, how Diego yearned to say those words out loud. "Would you have me charge into the cuartel with sword drawn and engage the King's Army?" There was an edge to Diego's voice now. "The result would have been me sharing a jail cell with Don Ignacio…or worse." He took a deep breath to calm himself, and added in his usual peaceful demeanor, "Besides, that is not my way."

"That is what puzzles me," Alejandro stated flatly. "You have adopted this air of pacifism; it is such a stark contrast to the young boy I sent to Spain."

"Did you consider that I simply matured during my education?" Diego inquired.

"It is not a simple matter of maturing," Alejandro said in a huff, throwing the remainder of his cigar into an ashtray. "It is a complete change in personality. Answer me this. Why do you try so hard to downplay your skill with a sword?"

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"All of this business about you being the clumsiest swordsman in California, to start," Alejandro clarified. "Do you recall the letters you wrote to me while you were at the university?"

"Sí," Diego answered cautiously.

"You always mentioned the latest fencing competition and how you were eager to win it, if you hadn't already walked away with the top honors," Alejandro stated triumphantly.

"I am afraid I may have over exaggerated the situation." Diego's voice softened, his eyes turned downward and his shoulders slumped. "I wanted to win those competitions because I knew how proud you would be, but I just did not have the ability."

The words burned like acid rolling off his tongue and a hard knot formed in his stomach. Diego kept his head lowered, unable to look his father in the eye. There were times he had to skirt the truth around his father in order to protect Zorro's identity, but this was the first time he flat out lied to the older de la Vega. Oh, how he wished he could have disappeared into the shadows. Was this deception really worth it?

Alejandro sighed heavily and leaned back in the chair. "If you do not wish to speak of your experiences just say so," he spat. "But do not lie to me."

Diego tilted his head and met his father's eyes. Was he really that easy to see through?

Alejandro leaned forward, "Or did you steal the Estoque de Oro medal and first place Comunidad de Madrid regional ribbon you sent me?" His eyes narrowed on his son.

Diego's body stiffened and his eyes widened in shock. How could he have completely forgotten about sending those awards home that he won during his first year at the university? His heart began pounding and his breaths shortened; he didn't have the faintest idea of how to talk his way out of this one. He swallowed hard; it was now or never. He would tell his father the truth.

"I can explain, Father."

"No more lies, Diego. All I ask is that you answer one question honestly. Did you steal them?" Alejandro's tone was eerily flat. There was no emotion, no sense of apprehension or frustration, no hint of the de la Vega temper. It was as if he felt nothing.

This terrified Diego.

"No," he answered honestly. He could withstand his father thinking he was nothing more that a poet and scholar; he could even bear his father thinking him a coward, but he would not allow Alejandro to believe his son was a thief.

"I did not think so," Alejandro stated with smug satisfaction.

Diego sat there stunned. This was not the reaction he expected from his father. He started to open his mouth to say something, but words wouldn't form. Was this some kind of test?

"When Monastario took over the garrison, the letters arriving to our pueblo became fewer. I knew in my heart you were still writing home, but I did not receive a letter from you for nearly a year," Alejandro said sadly. "I do not know what you wrote to me in that time…Maybe it would explain this all."

Alejandro sipped the remaining wine from his glass. "I do not know what happened to you during that final year in Madrid, but I hope that one day you will feel comfortable enough to tell me."

"Father, I want very much to tell you, it's just that…that…"

"Do not worry about it, Diego. I trust that the day will come when the time is right. I may not be known for my patience and understanding demeanor," he chuckled, "but your mother was. I'd like to think a little of her wore off on me." He smiled and patted his son on the back reassuringly.

Silence settled over the patio once again. Father and son both sat quietly, each absorbed in their own thoughts. Diego was bewildered. What just happened?

Alejandro stood up and stretched his back. "Buenos noches, mi hijo, sleep well."

"Buenos noches, Father," Diego responded. He watched Alejandro ascend the steps and disappear into the shadows of the balcony, the sounds of the bedroom door opening and closing the only indication his father had retired for the night.

Diego placed the remnants of his barely smoked cigar in the ashtray and glanced at his untouched glass of wine. He blinked hard and shook his head, not sure what to make of this evening – and unusual conversation – with his father.

Before he could ponder it further, he again heard the sounds of a door opening and closing. He half expected his father to reappear on the stairs, but it was Bernardo who emerged from the shadows. The mute shrugged and raised his hands in dismay.

"You heard?" Diego asked.

Bernardo held his thumb and index finger up, just shy of touching, indicating a little.

"I'm glad. It was so surreal that I was beginning to wonder if it happened," Diego said with relief.

Bernardo looked up towards Alejandro's room, pointed at Diego and then traced a 'Z' in the air with his finger.

"No, I do not think he suspects that I am Zorro," Diego answered the mute's unspoken question. "Since he did not receive any of my later letters, I wonder if perhaps he thinks that I was badly beaten in one of the competitions and it shook my confidence. That is why I no longer carry a sword."

Bernardo shot him a peculiar glare.

"Yes, it is eerily similar to the explanation I gave Don Estevan," Diego agreed. "Well, at least it's consistent," he snorted.

Bernardo just smiled and shook his head slightly. The amused expression faded and his features turned serious, as if a thought suddenly occurred to him. He patted Diego on the arm to get the young don's attention. He then pretended to open a letter and read it. The mute looked up from the imaginary document, glanced around the patio and raised his hands in a questioning manner.

"What happened to the letters I sent to my father?" Diego asked.

Bernardo nodded.

"I am afraid I do not know," he responded. "My father obviously didn't receive them, and if Monastario had intercepted and read them, my masquerade as Zorro would surely have ended as soon as it began."

Bernardo's shoulders stiffened with apprehension and a frown formed on his lips.

"No, I don't like the mystery either, but there is not much we can do about it," Diego reasoned. "If the letters happen to surface one day, we shall deal with it then."

The mute sighed heavily, signifying he still didn't like the situation.

"Come, my friend. We will have time to ponder this later. Right now, it's time for Zorro to ride."

* * *

Dressed in nightclothes, Alejandro pulled back the covers to his bed and crawled in. He reached over to extinguish the burning lantern. Settling in against the pillows, he smiled. His son was not the only de la Vega who could keep a secret.

**The End**


End file.
